


It's Just Wrestling

by GhostGarrison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Frottage, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Series, Wrestling, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2381159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGarrison/pseuds/GhostGarrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's too damn hot to be in a motel without air conditioning, but Sam and Dean Winchester have come to learn that it's a luxury, not a necessity. But that doesn't stop the heat and their hormones from getting to them--causing their wrestling match to turn into something much more. [inspired off of thebadbastion's series of June 2001: A Love Story Told Through Increasingly Dirty Pictures]</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Just Wrestling

The Winchester brothers learn early on in their lives that not every motel has air conditioning. It's a commodity in their lives and they quickly realize that they should consider themselves lucky if the random motel off the beaten track has a/c units in every room.

Currently they're not so lucky. The summer heat is blazing, pushing into the triple digits and the dry air of Nevada isn't helping much either. There's still a thin sheen of sweat glistening on Sam's body and from his spot sprawled on the twin bed nearest to the bathroom, he can see sparkling beads of sweat across Dean's forehead, who lays on the other bed in an almost mirror-like position across the bedspread.

Usually, when their dad was out collecting intel and doing preliminary research on what he thinks is the monster in the area, Sam and Dean do something like play cards or watch television or even just fling rubber bands at each other from opposite ends of the room. They'd find ways of passing the time before their dad came back and required their assistance in taking whatever-monster-it-is down that night.

But now? Now they're practically useless. Sam's bored out of his mind, spending the past two hours just staring at the ceiling and trying not to think how god damn sweaty he is. It's too hot to do anything--too hot to play cards, too hot to watch television, too hot to move. The heat is absolutely exhausting, and by the looks of it, Dean feels the same way.

"I'd kill for some air conditioning," Dean says out of nowhere, voice in a lazy drawl. "Or some ice or somethin'."

"Oh yeah? Who'd you kill?" Sam asks, not taking his eyes off the white painted stucco ceiling.

"I dunno, this monster maybe," his brother replies, shrugging against the scratchy sheets of the bed. "Hell-- _you_ , probably."

Sam's head whips to the side, glaring over at Dean across the small canon between their beds. "You'd kill me for some cold air?"

"Hmm... at this point? Yes," he says, turning his own head to flash Sam a sly smirk and a chuckle.

The joke is as bland and as dry as the stifling desert air they breathe, and it doesn't make Sam smile. "Jerk. You couldn't kill me even if you tried, especially now."

The comment gets Dean to move, his older brother propping himself up on his elbows and turning to eye Sam from across the room. "Wanna bet, bitch?"

He doesn't even give Sam a chance to answer before he pushes off his elbows, coming up to a crouch before lunging across the gap between the beds, landing roughly on his younger brother who tries to crawl away.

Dean is quick and has the upper hand at this point, grabbing Sam's right arm and wrenching it behind his back. Sam shouts, wriggling under his brother's grip in a rather sad, exhausted attempt to escape. He feels a hand settle at his hip, Dean's strength focused there to keep him still, pinned down to the bed.

Sam can feel himself getting hard, dick rising to press against the fading blue cotton of his boxer shorts. Now is definitely _not_ the time for his hormones to start raging--in this heat, pinned down by his own brother. But he can't deny it feels... strangely good. Dean's hold on him is unbelievably strong, the full weight of his body pressed against him gives him a thrill.

When he tries to escape Dean's mount, his brother is already one step ahead of them. Instead of Sam flipping them over and turning the tables in the fight, Dean holds him steady, pulling him by the arm back until Sam's butt connects with his hips.

He gasps when he realizes that he's not the only one turned on by this experience. Dean's length is tenting in his gray sweatpants, pressed up against the valley of Sam's ass. His big brother lets out a small moan at the contact, and over his shoulder, Sam can see his brother's hips begin to roll against him.

He decides to take advantage of Dean's less-defensive state and swiftly hooks a leg behind Dean's, throwing his weight to one side as he attempts to roll them.

"No you don't," Dean grits out, countering the movement and only allowing Sam to roll onto his back, still pinned underneath his older brother. He huffs out a sigh of annoyance when he feels his still-hardening cock pop out one leg of his boxers, curving up til the tip skims against the fabric of his brother's gray sweatpants. Dean reestablishes his hold on Sam, moving to straddle him while holding one of Sam's legs under his knee to keep him from kicking.

"Fuck," Sam says, hooking his other leg around Dean's leg and reaching up to grab Dean's shoulder, still attempting to roll them. Dean pushes against him instead, fisting his hand in Sam's shirt, rucking it up his chest in the struggle. Instead of finding a new place of purchase, his older brother just clutches the shirt harder and wrenches it over Sam's head before tossing it off to the side.

His dick is fully hard now, pre-come already beading at the tip as it stands at attention to the position he's in. Sam tries to ignore it; he still has a chance to win this battle. Using his own grip on Dean's shoulder, he tugs and rips at Dean's worn black shirt, pulling it over Dean's head and dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. Sam frowns at the sight of his brother's chest.

"Two shirts in this heat? You're an idiot."

"It's an undershirt," Dean snaps defensively.

"Yeah, whatever," Sam says with a roll of his eyes. He tries to snap his leg out of Dean's grip, maybe kick him in the side on the way...

"Hold _still_ , bitch," Dean says through his teeth, smiling. He hitches Sam's leg up, inadvertently bringing their groins together. The hard, weighty feeling of Dean's cock--even through the fabric of their boxers--feels so good against Sam's own. The contact makes Sam buck his hips upward, dick seeking more friction than its getting.

The movement get Dean's attention, eyes traveling down Sam's bare chest where their dicks rub against each other. He's not sure if it's the cloud of hormones that fog his brain, but Sam knows for a fact that he's not the only one in the room thinking of it. He wants to win the wrestling match, but he kinda wants this more.

" _Dean_ ," Sam says with no animosity or ferocity in his voice like there once was. It comes out sounding more like a plea. He reaches a lanky arm out to grip at the strap of Dean's shirt, getting his brother's attention.

Their struggle slows, gazes caught up in each other's. After a moment of hesitation, Dean starts rolling his hips again, brushing their cocks together lightly just like Sam imagined. He goes a little slack in Dean's grip, loosely holding on to Dean's shirt with his other hand gripping the bedsheets. Sam's legs unconsciously fall open, making way for Dean's dick.

His brother lets go of Sam for only a moment to push down the waistband of his pants, hands returning to settle on Sam's hips before tugging down Sam's boxers, releasing his cock from its cotton confines to let it bob freely between them.

They both gasp when skin hits skin, slightly slippery from pre-come they're both leaking and the sweat that covers them both. Then it hits them like a fever--Dean's hips snap forward, running his cock against Sam's balls and up his length and Sam does his best to bring his own hips up to meet his brother's movements.

The friction goes well with the heat, warming up Sam in ways that burn through his body like a wildfire. His hunger for more, for speed, rushes through him, but his words can't seem to reach his lips when he tries to urge Dean on for more.

Dean has no need to hold his brother down anymore, but he still keeps a hard grip on Sam's side and under his leg and Sam's thankful for it. The pace is steady for a few minutes, dicks rubbing against each other and the feeling makes Sam want to explode.

But his older brother goes at a leisurely pace, rubbing in a perfect rhythm that drives Sam absolutely insane. He needs more and he needs more _now_. Sam is getting close to the edge but he knows from experience that he won't get there without some speed.

Hooking his leg behind Dean's again, Sam uses the last of his strength and focus to try to escape the mount one last time--and it works. Dean lets out a startled yell when he falls over, victim to Sam's self-defense. Finally Sam has Dean exactly where he wants him--where he's wanted him this entire time--and he uses it to the fullest advantage.

He ruts against his older brother, quickly and selfishly and without finesse or rhythm. It's rough and careless and probably the best thing Sam's felt in a long, _long_ time. Precome from them both pools on Dean's stomach in the little curve created there, causing their cocks to slip against each other quicker and more smoothly.

Sam is close, unbearably close, and he knows that Dean is too as his older brother is panting and twitching beneath him. Instead of speeding up, pressing harder and more haphazardly against Dean's hips, Sam stops completely, eliciting a disappointed moan from Dean.

He trails his hands up Dean's torso, slick with sweat that makes him gleam in the light of the setting sun coming through the motel's thin curtains. His brother is beautiful. Beautiful and _his_.

Sam's hands cup Dean's face, bringing their head close, eyes fluttering closed as their lips brush together rather innocently. He means for it to be a deeper kiss but the position they're in makes it difficult.

But apparently that's enough for the two of them. Sam's orgasm flashes white behind his eyelids, come spurting out and painting Dean's stomach and mixing in with the precome there. His older brother isn't far behind him, coming only a split second after Sam. Their kiss, innocent but dirty all the same, was all they needed to finish.

"Fuck!" Dean swears in a raspy breath, chest heaving as he pushes up on his elbows. "Bitch got th' best of me."

"Shut it, jerk," Sam replies, reaching for Dean's jaw to pull him in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> PICTURES FOUND HERE ([x](http://thebadbastion.tumblr.com/post/31110930880/impala1-by-badbastion-june-2001-a-love-story))  
> go find thebadbastion on tumblr @ thebadbastion  
> and come find me on tumblr @ GhostGarrison


End file.
